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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382633">Because The Godfolk Have A Sense Of Humour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant'>Gargant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crush at First Sight, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Prophecy Is A Hell Of A Drug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her search has finally brought her here, to the library of Kinnsbrooke. Now all she needs to do is wait until nightfall, sneak in, and take the stupid book. Easy. Right?</p><p>Well, it would have been, if the librarian hadn't been sleeping in the middle of the floor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Librarian in a Quaint Fantasy Town/Female Thief Who is Trying to Steal a Tome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Because The Godfolk Have A Sense Of Humour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/gifts">Measured_Words</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope this chocolate makes you smile!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gael wished her hands weren't tied quite so tightly, but with a knife pointed toward her throat she couldn't imagine there being much room to negotiate.</p><p>The librarian—Samanthea—grasped the hilt tightly between her two pale hands. It was a skinny little blade, the point looking almost blunt in the dim midnight that surrounded them, but Gael knew that looks could be deceiving. Much like Samanthea herself had been—the librarian was wearing nothing but a nightshirt that sat barely below the widest curve of her hips, which was <em>wonderful</em>, but she'd also proven both resourceful and determined enough to have Gael overpowered and thoroughly disarmed.</p><p>Frankly, the last ten minutes have been a disaster.</p><p>No self-respecting rogue ever got this far in life without fantasising about death at the hands of a beautiful stranger with a knife. And yet this was <em>not</em> how Gael had expected her evening to go. Was she really going to die in this nowhere town, denied her goal at the very final hurdle? Killed by a librarian with an overzealous sense of justice? Death by mundane causes, <em>ugh</em>. The very worst of fates.</p><p>Unless she could yet talk her way out of this.</p><p>"Your name is Samanthea, isn't it?"</p><p>Samanthea didn't lower the blade, but her dark eyebrows twitched higher at the question. "It is," She responded, but offered nothing else. Not making this easy.</p><p>"Hullo, Samanthea. I'm sorry I startled you before."</p><p>"You broke in." Samanthea's tone was almost as blunt as the knifepoint. Alarmingly, her grip seemed to tighten. "Of course I was startled."</p><p>Gael nods sympathetically, as contrite as she could be while her hands were still bound to a table leg. "To my credit I didn't expect anyone to be here. Do you <em> often </em>sleep in the library?"</p><p>Perhaps making the librarian defensive was a bad idea. Beneath the dishevelled curls of rolling dark hair Gael thought she could see embarrassed anger colouring Samanthea's cheeks. "Only at the moment. I'll find a place again soon. It's really none of your business."</p><p>Ah. Recently rendered homeless, then. Gael wished she didn't relate to that particular turn of fortune.</p><p>Emboldened by her own words, Samanthea jerked the knife forward in a threatening little thrust. Gael lurched back in turn and jostled against the roughhewn edge of the table. "It's <em> absolutely </em> not your business," Samanthea repeated again. "I should be asking the questions, not you. I should surrender you to the authorities."</p><p><em> Nope. That is </em> <b> <em>not</em> </b> <em> the direction we want this conversation going. </em>"Well, you've caught me, so I'll have to answer honestly," Gael tried, threading some doomed sense of remorse through her words. Better to appeal to this pretty stranger's sense of triumph than trust whatever might happen with the Kennsbrooke Town Guard. Public execution was far from unheard of around these parts.</p><p>There was a pause before Samanthea stepped back, a slight edge of tension easing from her taut form. Gael tried not to let her relief show too plainly, nor to let her gaze linger over the roundness of Samanthea's lovely bare legs. "Okay. What are you doing here? We don't keep money, you know."</p><p>Of course not. "Would you believe me if I told you I was looking for a book?"</p><p>Samanthea scoffed. "Public hours are from midday until supperdown. Come back tomorrow."</p><p><em> Yes ma'am, of course ma'am, I'll just be going ma'am. </em>Except Samanthea did not look the least bit interested in letting her go just yet. Gael pulled plaintively at the place her wrists were bound. "If you unbind me, I can do just that." And give up the prize she's travelled so far to obtain? Not a chance. But no need to tell that to poor Samanthea. "Please?"</p><p>Samanthea lowered her knife and turned away, starting back toward the cubbyhole where Gael could see she had been concealing her belongings. "I'm getting dressed," Samanthea announced, "And then we're calling the town guard."</p><p>"No, wait now, hold on!" Gael tugged again, gritting her teeth in frustration. What kind of freak librarian could catch her so unawares? And tie such damn powerful knots?! "I'll tell you everything! I'll tell you what I was looking for! It's the prophecy book, I know you have one! I was looking for the prophecy book!"</p><p>Thank goodness that tidbit proved interesting enough to catch Samanthea's attention once more. "Oh, of course," She mused to herself, thoughtful and dry. "You were going to steal the Heirloom Tome."</p><p>"I wasn't going to steal it," Gael objected quickly, more instinctive denial than any real expectation of clearing her name. Samanthea came back to face her once more, dragging a chair along with her and very carefully pressing her knees together as she sat down. The expression on her face made it perfectly clear what she thought of Gael's claim to innocence. Awkwardly, Gael cleared her throat. "Okay, I was obviously going to steal it. But I won't now, I swear. I just need to see it. Then I'll go. I'll leave Kinnsbrooke forever."</p><p>For the first time, Samanthea looked interested instead of merely affronted. "If that's all you wanted, you could have petitioned the council for a viewing. People come to see the Tome most mornings, you know. You didn't have to try and take it."</p><p>"And what would I do when my petition was denied? Or they said yes, and put me into that endless queue, and expected me to wait here for months on end? I can't afford to stay at an Inn for that long." Allowing herself a moment of bitterness, suspecting it might fall on equally frustrated ears, Gael added, "I can't afford much of anything."</p><p>Even in the dark, Gael thought she could see the flicker of experienced sympathy her admission earned. <em> Good. Keep going </em>.</p><p>"I have to see that book, Samanthea. I won't take it. I won't do anything to it. I just need to <em> see </em> it."</p><p>At last it seemed that Gael had found her hook. "Why?" The librarian asked, and she sounded genuinely interested to know. Gael considered for a moment, and decided to go against every instinct that had brought her this far. It was time for honesty.</p><p>"I've been told that there's a prophecy in there that's about me."</p><p>For a moment she had wondered if Samanthea would simply laugh in her face. Perhaps accuse her of lying, or return to her instinct of calling in the town guard. Instead something slowly dawned on the librarian's face, a sunrise of fascination lighting her eyes and shifting the whole room around it. "A prophecy about <em> you</em>? But... but that's incredible." The knife, so threatening before, hung limply in Samanthea's hand as she gazed across the room at Gael. "That's <em>incredible</em>. Are you sure? How did you find out about this?"</p><p>"I <em> am </em> sure, and I can't tell you how." Even for the sake of saving her life, Gael knew better than to betray guild secrets. There were things they could do to you, things much worse than even the harshest acts of court-sanctioned justice. "But I need to see it with my own eyes. I need to know what it says. Please, Samanthea." <em> Please don't make me have to fight you. You're much too lovely for that. </em></p><p>The pause this time was longer, and heavy with consideration. Gael shifted, trying to keep her legs from cramping on the cold stone floor. Finally Samanthea stood, tugging her thigh-length nightshirt back down around her hips self-consciously. Gael politely kept her (entirely complimentary) observations to herself. "If there really is a prophecy about you, you'll be the only one able to read it. Well, you and anyone else it mentions. Heirloom Tomes were enchanted by the godfolk themselves. Only those who will be touched by a prophecy are able to glean meaning from the pages. To anyone else, there's only vagueness. Beautiful artistry, but no words."</p><p>Gael had heard similar things already, and already had her rhetorical answer. "Then it won't take me long to find the right page, will it."</p><p>The logic seemed to work, so much so that Samanthea even threw in a cheerful little smile. "I suppose not. What's your name?"</p><p>The question seemed abrupt after everything else, and somehow it shot right past all of Gael's defenses. "Gael," She blurted truthfully, far quicker than her mind could supply any of her usual aliases.</p><p>"Okay, Gael. I'm going to untie you."</p><p>Despite the chill seeping up from the floor beneath her, Gael felt a warm rush of gratitude. "Thank you," She breathed, and truly meant it.</p><p>Only when Samanthea began the steady process of unpicking each knot did Gael think to prompt her; "Why not just use the knife? It'll be faster."</p><p>"Oh, that thing?" Samanthea's laughter was like music in the dark. "I don't think so. It's only a letter opener, and it's barely much good for <em>that</em>."</p><p><em>Fuck the gods that make such a fool of me</em>, Gael thought to herself, and bit her lip.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Heirloom Tome, as Samanthea called it, was locked inside a glass-fronted cabinet. It would have been easy to break into, Gael reflected mournfully, but kept a respectful distance as Samanthea went about her work. Lamentably, the librarian had taken the time to pull a knee-length skirt on underneath her nightshirt, giving her a many-tiered impression that left Gael missing the sight of bare legs.</p><p>Still, Samanthea's ankles were perfectly divine. Gael entertained herself with watching them as Samanthea directed her to a table, fetching a single tallow candle and pulling up a chair alongside Gael's own. Then she returned to the cabinet, removed the book, and hurried back to place it on the table before them.</p><p>It looked very... normal. A hefty volume, but standard enough. The leather bindings showed signs of age, but even Gael's untrained eye could see that the book had been well cared for. How old was it? Hundreds of years, easily, if it had been around during the era of godfolk walking upon the earth. A pretty prize indeed, if she <em> had </em> been able to sell it to the right collector.</p><p>Not important any more. Gael opened the cover, shoulders hunching over the table, and took stock of the many, many pages. "I guess I'll just flick through and see if I spot anything," She suggested and moved to begin doing exactly that, but Samanthea grasped her wrist and squeezed with that same unexpected strength that had first taken Gael so by surprise.</p><p>"No! No, you can't be bending the pages so recklessly. This is a sacred and irreplaceable text." Then, more conservatively, "And the council will be able to tell if it's been mishandled. We'll get caught."</p><p>"Ah," Gael ceded. Neither of them much wanted that. (And when had it become <em> we</em>? Gael caught herself surreptitiously stealing another glance at those ankles.)</p><p>"You'll just have to look through one page at a time," Samanthea finished, and then settled straight-backed in her chair with clear expectation that Gael would proceed to do so. Glumly, Gael looked again at the sheer volume of the... volume.</p><p>"And you're certain I couldn't just..." Gael made a motion with her hand, much like a noblewoman flicking her hand fan open with an expert twist of the wrist. Samanthea shot her a very firm look that did not require translation—sighing, Gael turned the first page and peered through the low candlelight.</p><p>Samanthea had said the pages would appear <em> artistic</em>. Gael supposed that was a fine enough description. Each turn of parchment unveiled nothing more meaningful than great swirling masses of ink, linked and entwined like branches of strangling ivy across the yellowed expanse of each double-page binding. "I didn't expect this," Gael admitted, perhaps twenty pages into her quest. When Samanthea looked askance at her, she clarified, "I thought it would be written in some sort of sorcerer's tongue. Something I wouldn't understand but would still <em> look </em> like words. A foreign language."</p><p>"They say an Heirloom Tome appears different to each person who sets eyes upon it. See? For me, here, there's a flourish." She tapped the paper gently with one fingertip, seemingly at random. "And from there it flows around the edges, like <em> so</em>." Carefully she traced the pattern as she described it, a winding border around the edge of the page that didn't line up with anything Gael could see. When Samanthea finished, she withdrew her touch and smiled. "Interesting, isn't it? These uncanny gifts the godfolk left us."</p><p>Uncanny seemed the right word for it, but Gael nodded agreeably and returned to her task. She had travelled for almost an entire season to reach this place, with only her own bare wits to keep her safe and fed. She'd forgone so much, all to find this answer. Each careful page turn promised <em> maybe this time, maybe this time</em>, and Gael began to wonder how long her heart would be able to withstand these bursts of hope and disappointment. Any moment now, any second now...</p><p>Reading was <em> not </em>supposed to be this stressful.</p><p>And yet, somewhere approaching the second hundredth page, she realised her heart <em> had </em> stopped lurching. The excitement was dimming. The moment of revelation was becoming a moment of <em> tedium</em>. Venting another irritable sigh, Gael threw caution to the wind and gathered the remaining parchment between finger and thumb, hurrying to flick through as many pages as she could before Samanthea might manage to stop her.</p><p>The librarian's dismay was immediate. "Wait!" She cried, lurching across the table to thrust her hand between the pages. She looked as though she might upturn the entire table in her haste, and Gael began the apology she'd already prepared when Samanthea stubbornly interrupted with, "No, I mean, I think I saw it! Back a little, the bit you were looking for, it was... yes, there! That part there!"</p><p>Obedient and wide-eyed, Gael turned back through the pages as Samanthea bid, before smoothing the book open and looking to the place where Samanthea pointed. There, written in surprisingly simple and recognisable lettering, was a language she could read. Words she could understand.</p><p>"Oh, shit," Gael breathed, at the same moment that Samanthea leaned in closer and whispered, "You can read it too, can't you?"</p><p>It wasn't even a paragraph, barely even a single sentence. But it was there. Everything she had been searching for. Heads bent together, candlelight illuminating the darkness, the thief and the librarian stared down at the simple words.</p><p>
  <em> The rogue, in search of surety for her future, falls in love with the keeper of that knowledge. </em>
</p><p>Samanthea looked at the page. Looked at her. Seemed to be <em> really </em> looking at her, as if truly seeing Gael for the very first time.</p><p>"Oh." Gael breathed, stared back. Glanced down at the page, down again at Sam's pretty ankles, and then... Groaning, buried her face in her hands. "Oh, for fuck's sake."</p>
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